backbone
by turukte
Summary: Contains Spoilers for TASM 2 ; 'the more people I save, the more enemies I make,' ; 'Not everyone gets a happy ending,' Peter thought he'd get a break after defeating Electro and throwing Goblin in Ravencroft. Guess he was wrong. Goblin's out for his blood, and he's not short of allies when it comes to breaking backbones.
1. clock towers & counting seconds

A/N – WARNING – This fanfic contains major spoilers for 'The Amazing Spiderman 2' movie. It also continues on from towards the end of the movie.

I'm pretty apprehensive about posting this, because I've never wrote a fanfic before.

SPOILERS FOR MOVIE START HERE

This fanfiction begins at the end of the fight between Spider-man and Harry Osborn (Green Goblin) but please note, Gwen doesn't die! I couldn't stand it, so I cut it from the story. Also, I don't think she'll be moving to England either ^^'

Backbone; Chapter 1; clock towers & counting seconds

Peter feels a bone in his foot snap, but he barely hears the resounding noise over the roar of the clock tower's gears and the panic pounding behind his eyes. He throws himself off the gear he's sprawled across, using whatever strength he can muster in the fractured second he has. He straightens his arm and shoots a thread of webbing down, feeling sick with relief when it catches on Gwen. He shoots another thread from the other hand, the webbing spreading up the side of the clock tower, yanking Gwen up towards him on the other thread. Spider man latches on his wall, feet straining to keep himself upright, whilst pulling up his webbing, hand over hand. He can't hear anything, he couldn't possibly calm his heartbeat, and it takes everything to keep his hands steady and grip tight.

When Gwen reaches him, he doesn't bother to pull the webbing from her as she wraps herself around him. Spider man swings them both up the clock tower, past the gears, to the roof. He stands up, but he doesn't let go of Gwen, and she doesn't let go of him. He doesn't think he can trust himself to speak; he isn't sure whether his voice will quite work right now. He peers down the clock tower, to the unconscious form of Harry Osborn slumped against the wall of the building, his arm bent at an impossible angle. The glider was thrown halfway across the platform, teetering over the edge of one of the gears, thrusters spluttering sparks. Osborn is unconscious, or so it seems, so Peter can't bring himself to even think much about the villain.

He looks back up, pressing his forehead to Gwen's. Her eyes are closed, and she's shaking just as much as he had been. He finds himself murmuring apologies to her, his throat seizing with guilt and what he thinks might be anger, but she shakes her head feverishly. He tells her they have to get out of here, now, they're done, there's nothing left to do. Her reply isn't all that coherent, so Peter tightens his grip on her and swings them down to ground level. As he takes control of his hearing, the blood rushing in his eyes dissipating, they're filled with the wails of police sirens and helicopters. Several police cars screech to a halt outside the clock tower, and Spider-man tenses. Police officers clamber out of their cars quickly, raising guns to level with Peter's head and chest. Another unit scurries off round through the maze of electrical current towers, heavy-duty weapons resting on their shoulders and visors pulled down over their eyes. Gwen lets go of Peter, twisting around to face the police.

"_PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE CIVILIAN," _Someone has a loud speaker, the crackle of their voice turned tinny by the equipment. Spider man glances nervously at Gwen, before slowly backing away from her.

"_PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD," _The loudspeaker demands. Peter raises his hands to either side of his head, the back of his neck tingling underneath his suit. A crash echoes up from within the clock tower, catching everyone's attention. Peter's stomach drops, and his chest tightens. What sounds like the thrusters of Harry Osborn's glider splutter to life and resonated throughout the metal innards of the clock tower. The police are distracted for split-seconds, and Peter slings himself up to the clock towers broken roof, perching on the edge of the metal skeleton left behind of the once-glassed window ceiling. Inside, the clock tower is lit by the light of the moon, but Harry's slumped figure is gone, along with his glider. Spider man leans over the edge of his perch, peering down inside the tall building, his spider-sense going wild, and resisting the urge to look over his shoulder down to where Gwen was. He knew she was smart enough to stay out of danger, after what had already happened.

A laugh ricochets off the walls of the clock tower, sending chills up Peter's spine and a sharp anger bubbling in his chest. Osborn hadn't been as unconscious as it had seemed. The glider's thrusters powered up, and Osborn rockets from the tower. He would've caught Spider man around the middle if Peter's reactions hadn't been so good. Peter flipped backwards off his perch, swinging down the side of the tower, latching onto the side and scuttling across the surface. Harry swings his glider round to face him, a painful grin stretching across his face, Peter has barely enough time to dodge when the glider shoots forward, Osborn throwing a grenade in Peter's direction. The bomb explodes on contact, shrapnel from the clock towers showering down across Peter's vision. He throws himself off of the clock tower just in time, slinging out a web line to swing round to the other side, almost blind from the smoke of the explosion. The glider powers round to face Peter again, and he notices Osborn's intention to throw a second grenade a second before it happens. He leaps off of the clock tower, shooting out a web, which attaches to the bottom of Harry's glider. The grenade explodes against the clock tower, resulting in more debris and shrapnel, along with a gaping hole in the side of the metal building, exposing the metal skeleton. The glider his yanked down as Spider man swings underneath and up, flipping onto the back of the glider. He jumps on Osborn's back, ignoring the way his suit and skin are ripped from the metal of Osborn's suit. Harry snarls and twists around, the glider going with his movements, hoping to throw off Spider man. He thrusts his arms back, hitting Spider man in both his sides. Spider man tightens his wrap around Harry's face, slipping his hold down to around his neck. With a spluttering growl, Osborn flips the glider upside down.

Peter feels his grip slipping from the force of gravity. He's only held on to the glider through his own strength, whereas Harry is attached by his suit. Spider man's arms screech in protest, but adrenaline courses through his limbs and Spider-man yanks his hold to the right, successfully flipping the glider back up the right way. Harry moves his hand from where it's scrabbling at Peter's strangle hold, unloading a three-pronged dagger from the Goblin suit. He twists the weapon around in his hand, and pushes his arm backwards, aiming to drive the blades into Peter's sides. Peter bends himself away from the dagger, feeling the tip of the blade nick his suit, the glider swinging wildly. He doesn't have much of choice but to swing away when Goblin lunges with the blade again, aiming for Peter's arms. Peter slings a web and swings on it, twisting around to watch Goblin's glider swerve in the direction of the congregated police cars by the clock tower. He swings in pursuit, the peppering of machine guns like a storm and the silence of an ignorant city rings deafening like the wind that rushes past. Goblin eludes the machine gun fire, and Peter manages to swing clear, because he can't get close enough without getting hit. A grenade is thrown and two police cars rear up in a fit of orange flame and billowing smoke, debris flying every which way. Police units duck for cover and scurry from the explosion, which is followed by a second, which hits a control hut ten metres from the police cars. The Goblin's glider and it's pilot power towards the city, leaving a trail of grenade desolation behind. Spider man swings behind, although it's hard to keep up and determine the next swinging point at the same time.

The city centre seems to be where Osborn is heading, and if only Peter can get ahead of him, stop the downpour of grenades. The glider splutters occasionally, because the thrusters are dented, and the power's depleting. Spider man fears that maybe his web shooters might do the same, but it's yet to happen. There's a crane ahead and above him, so he launches himself at it, straining against the web thread and pulling up ahead of the glider. He lands on the side of building and throws himself off it instantly, hitting the goblin glider with enough weight and speed to throw it completely off course. Spider man leaps away as the glider is driven haphazardly into the side of a skyscraper. Harry is thrown off the glider, his suit chewed up by the feet and shoulders as both he and the glider crash through the plexiglas window of the building. They tumble through the office room that they end up in, Spider man crawling in after them, body tense despite the recent electrocution (courtesy of Electro). Harry pushes himself up from where he's sprawled against the floor of the office, the glider discarded reluctantly halfway across the room, choking on its own fuel. His grin is gone and replaced by something that's unmistakeable fury. The goblin suit shuffles itself back to normal, curving to shape its wearer, powering up and kicking in the healing factor that it was built with. Harry's broken fingers knit themselves back together as he stands up, hands fisted in front of him and legs braced. Peter crouches on a desk several feet away, balanced on the tip of his toes and fingertips.

"Harry, you've gotta stop this,"

"No. You brought this on yourself!" Goblin lunges with a blade that he whips from his suit. Peter twists to avoid the knife, grabbing Goblin's wrist. Harry grits his teeth and tries to yank his hand back, throwing his arm left and right, but he misses all the hits he tries to land with the knife.

"Stop! I can help you, I just want to help you!" Peter doesn't really know whether that's true, not now. Harry stops, fixing Peter's emotionless spider-mask with a stare that's tinged with insanity. His words are quiet and laced with hysteria.

"You want to help me?" he says.

Peter nods helplessly. He's caught off guard when Goblin wrenches his wrist from Spider man's grasp and doesn't manage to dodge entirely when he swings the knife in his hand across Peter's thigh and grabs the neck of Peter's suit. A long, thin gash appears across Peter's leg, and Goblin kicks him harsh and hand in the stomach.

"HELP ME!?" He shouts. He throws Peter across the room, into the wall. Peter takes too long to roll to his feet and catch his breath.

"YOU ALREADY HAD THE CHANCE! But, you let me die!" Goblin kicks out at Peter, who attempts to block with his forearm, but the goblin suit is too heavy, and he stumbles. He slings a web at a desk that's sitting behind Goblin, pulling it towards himself so it hits Harry in the back. He flips out of the way when Goblin is thrown forward, scrambling to get good enough footing, quick enough. Harry throws the desk off, swaying back up onto his feet. Peter shoots webbing at his eyes, causing a distraction for all of two seconds. Goblin takes a single step back, and rips off the webbing, only to find it's replaced by another web. Growling in frustration, he lunges blindly, and Peter catches his arm with webbing, latching it to the ceiling. He latches the other arm and wraps webbing around Goblin's legs. Harry screeches, yanking at the threads repeatedly, wearing them thin. Peter kicks him in the chest, knocking him backwards, and then throwing a right cross across his face. He ignores the way his knuckles are cut on Harry's earpieces. Harry stumbles back into a desk, wrenching his arm free and swinging a wild punch in where he thinks Peter is. He clears the webbing from his eyes and Peter shoves his head into the side of the desk. There's a crack and the wood is stained red on the edge where his skull hits. Goblin's body tenses and falls limp, his eyes rolling backwards into his head.

Peter drops from the desk onto the office floor and presses two fingers to Harry's throat. He's alive, there's a pulse there, but there is no way he'll be waking up soon. Blood pours from the side of his head, trickling down his face and Peter isn't sure whether he's feeling sick with relief, adrenaline, or guilt.

His hands are shaking as he drags Harry's limp body towards the shattered glass panel where they entered the building. Police sirens screech up and down the city roads several stories below where he's standing. He ties Harry up with webbing, and wonders whether he should risk going down there without the Goblin. He wonders whether the police would even give him enough of a chance to explain the circumstances. He doesn't really understand why the police are so hell-bent on catching him in the first place. He'd thought that had been cleared up.

He decides on lugging the body down to the street level, and it takes longer than expected. Partly because the Goblin suit weighs quite a lot to someone who's not wearing it, and also because Peter realises he's actually sporting a few more injuries than he'd originally thought. Even for a genetically-enhanced-healing-factored superhero, being electrocuted (more than once) is not so good. He skitters to a halt in front of a more important looking police car and is swamped by four officers and he touches down on the ground, dropping his quarry on the sidewalk. There are pillars of smoke billowing from various spots in the city, courtesy of the fires being put out after the grenade trail Goblin left behind him. There are cars on the roads, the neon lighting of the city spilling on the sidewalk and too much whirring of blue and red police sirens. Peter looks around for Gwen, but he can't spot her, of course he can't, there's too much going on. He's vaguely aware of the police officers…congratulating him? Their words are slightly dulled, and then they focus on Harry whose unconscious on the sidewalk. The haul him upright and handcuff his wrists, before dragging him to an ambulance that's unoccupied. Peter doesn't really know what they're going to do with him.

He slips away underneath the cover of the chaos, slinging himself onto the rooftops of the buildings. He wants to find Gwen, but then again, he can't stand facing her. He wants to know whether she's alright, otherwise the lump in his throat will never ease. He makes it to Gwen's family's apartment, clambering up to her window and huffing a breath of relief when he sees her curtains aren't pulled. He pulls himself up to look inside, huddled around the edge so she won't see him if she is inside. His breath draws short when he sees she's not inside. He ducks his head and looks back down the direction he'd come. He stops short of smacking his forehead, of course she wouldn't have come home yet. She's probably still back with the police, as an eye witness. He doesn't give it a second thought when he shoots a web line and throws himself back the way he came.

Gwen shivers uneasily and pulls the shock blanket tighter around her shoulders. She's cold, yes, but she doesn't really think she needs the blanket. She's only doing it to please the ambulance staff that had insisted on giving it to her. She keeps looking to the skies, even though they're dark and starless, hoping that Spider man with sling across the rooftops, alive and unharmed. A lump has lodged itself in her throat, and all she wants is to throw the blanket off and march off in search of Peter.

Granted, she was pretty shaken up from _almost _falling to a broken spine or something just as gruesome, but that doesn't mean she was going to stop. There was no point dwelling on something that _could've _happened, but didn't. The police sirens that still swamped the streets drilled holes in Gwen's ears, and she wondered when this night was going to end. She dreaded hearing of the casualty count on the news in the morning. She scans the rooftops with her eyes again, and stops suddenly when she catches a silhouette against the deep purple of the sky. It's crouched like a cat, still and silent. She dumps the blanket and wanders quickly from the ambulance, satisfied that the medical staff was far more occupied with the _actual _casualties. She pulls out her phone and dials Peter's number, and it takes him several rings to decide to actually answer. She watches the silhouette pull a mobile from a pocket and put it to his ear.

"Gwen?"

"Peter, I know you're up there. I'm looking at you right now,"

"I, uh, that's not me,"

"Uh huh," Gwen rolls her eyes, but really she can't keep the relief from her voice. She asks him to come down, or at least meet her back at her apartment. He dwindles on the question for a moment.

"Gwen-"

"No, Peter, don't start with that. Please, just wait one night, just tonight," She says. She hears his sigh, and can tell the relief and the guilt separately from each other.

"Okay,"

A/N – Hope you liked it!


	2. underdogs & underground stations

A/N – next chapter. I don't think I specified it in the previous chapter or it's notes, but the pairing in this fic is PeterxGwen

Mixture of genres running through this chapter, there's some fluff and also some plot stuff.

I'm such a sap.

Backbone; Chapter2 ; Underdogs & Underground stations

Halfway back to the apartment, and Peter couldn't be gladder for his spider-web lines, otherwise it would've taken a considerable amount of extra time to get back. Once the last dregs of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins are gone, exhaustion begins to set in, and it's the kind that you don't always notice until you reach home, that creeps into your bones and settles there obnoxiously.

Gwen unlocks and pushes up her window for Peter, who's pulled off his mask. He pulls himself inside clumsily, but he's notably jittery and careful not to touch any of the furniture even though he's barely standing. Gwen takes in the bruises that are crawling up the right side of his face, and the way he's breathing short and gingerly, standing with preference on his left leg. The reason is obvious for the latter, from the crimson that's swamped around the gash on his leg and that's mingling with the red of the spider man suit. Peter breathes a 'hey' and looks dolefully apologetic. She frowns and wraps her arms around him, because even with all her fire and determination, she's glad he's safe and she's glad he's _here. _Peter unintentionally leans the majority of his weight into the embrace, and his return is a little sloppy but he's making sure she's alive and well and _there._ Gwen closes her eyes against the rough texture of the spider man suit and breathes him in, but pulls away almost abruptly when she realises he needs medical attention or he's going to keel over right onto the carpet. She pushes Peter down into the chair in her room and hurries off to grab the first-aid kit and a change of Peter's clothes that have accumulated in the bathroom from the other times he's shown up at her window in need of medical attention. She also grabs a couple washcloths and some water, and decides she'll come back for the painkillers later.

After Peter changes from his suit into the clean clothes in the bathroom, Gwen cleans the gash on his leg and wraps it in gauze. Peter doesn't make eye contact as she cleans the wounds on his face and wraps his ribs tightly so they're supported. The ordeal is silent, save for Peter's flinching and the wringing of the washcloth in the bowl of water. Gwen stands up and clears away the first aid kit, going to find some painkillers whilst Peter gingerly puts back on his shirt over his newly-bound torso. He takes the double-dose of painkillers that he's offered, blinking away blurred vision. As Gwen gets up to put the glass of water on her bedside table, he grabs her wrist lightly.

"Gwen," She startles a little, but turns around. Peter doesn't remove his hand from her wrist. He opens his mouth to say something, falters a little, jaw moving whilst he finds what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry, it was my fault-" He says, but he doesn't make eye contact. He's looking at the space _between _her eyes, which is something she's noticed that's he's made a habit of doing with a lot of people. She cuts him off, because she _knew _this conversation was going to come up sooner than she'd appreciate.

"No, Peter, it wasn't. It was my decision to come with you; I brought it on myself," Gwen says. Peter shakes his head several times over, pulling a more distressed expression than before.

"No, no, Gwen, I shouldn't have let you come, it wasn't safe, it was stupid of me," He says, and Gwen frowns. Hadn't they gone over this already?

"Peter Parker, I told you then, and I'll tell you again now. No one makes my decisions for me, _no one. _I _wanted _to help you," Gwen explains. Peter looks at the floor, shifting in his seat.

"It's not your responsibility," He says.

"It's not _yours_ either, Peter, powers or not," Gwen says. There's a lull in the conversation, the ticking of Gwen's clock the only noise that really occupies the room.

"What if you get hurt? Hell, you almost got hurt today," Peter says, and he's sincere and frustrated.

"But I didn't," Gwen states. Peter looks like he wants to reply, but Gwen hurries on with the rest of what she was going to say.

"What if _you _get hurt? Worse than usual – not everything can be fixed with a first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet," She finishes, looking up and finding that Peter is _actually _looking her in the eye. He doesn't say anything else for a moment, but then he nods.

"Okay, okay, Gwen," He says, and Gwen can hear the slur of sleep at the edges of the words. She kisses him on the edge of his mouth, which she guesses takes him a little by surprise, and then walks into the bathroom to get changed into her pajamas. By the time she's back out, she's yawning and doesn't even bother looking at the time to know that it's probably past midnight by now and this day has lasted _forever_. Not the good kind of forever, either.

"C'mon, you can't sleep in the chair," She says to Peter around a yawn and pulls him up from the arm chair by the hands. He's not exactly helpful. Gwen clambers into her own bed, and Peter doesn't move, looking nervous.

"What if your mom-" he doesn't finish the sentence. Gwen tells him it doesn't matter, and he's too tired to argue. He'll just leave before the rest of Gwen's apartment wake up. He slides under the duvet next to Gwen and she leans back against his chest, careful not to press against his bruised ribcage. She takes his hand, which is flung over her side, threading her fingers through his.

"Love you, Pete," She murmurs, feeling his breathing slow and his quiet reply, which she takes to be the same sort of thing.

Peter wakes briefly just before dawn, and glances at the clock on top of Gwen's closet. It's nearly 6:00 in the morning, and the itch of tiredness still tickles at Peter's eyes. He decides he can't stay, and should just slip out now, or Aunt May will worry. He'd texted her shortly last night, but he didn't think just that would be enough to stop her worrying where he was, and it would make matters worse if she found him missing that morning. He takes care clambering out from underneath the duvet, a shiver running over his neck in the chill of the morning and the grey light that filters through the curtains. He tugs on his webshooters and mask, grabbing his stuff, before quietly sliding up the window and slipping out of the apartment. The morning is grey and still, a little sombre, but there's still the sound of New York traffic. It doesn't take long to reach his house from Gwen's apartment, and Peter reaches home without any problems. His bedroom window is unlocked, like he usually leaves it. Aunt May is asleep still, he thinks, so he doesn't see a problem with falling back to sleep in his own bedroom.

Except, he can't sleep.

Lying on his back on top of the duvet, he rubs at his forehead and scowls at the ceiling. Sleep is evading his mind, which is racing back and forth between the events that had happened the day before. Now that the initial fight was over, and the threats dealt with, he had nothing to occupy himself with to take his mind away from his thoughts. Naturally, he can't help thinking up dozens of ways that things could've gone differently, how easily he could've changed how things had happened.

_/18 hours later at the Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane/_

Guards are stationed at either end of the corridor, but they let the man through after he presents his yellow card. He nods silently to them, his face straight and forgettable. The room that he enters is the holding cell for the recently-admitted Harry Osborn, failed heir of the Oscorp industry, classed as criminally unstable, both mentally and physically. The room is lit dimly by a single line of white lighting fixed into the ceiling. A little extra daylight filters through a small window in the outside-facing wall, barred with metal, so the light is cut through with shadows. The only other man that occupies the room is Harry, but he doesn't turn around to make eye contact with his visitor – he can see him well enough by looking at the cracked mirror he's sitting in front of. The mirror wasn't initially cracked when he'd been placed in the holding cell, but Harry's right fist was peppered with cuts over the knuckles, which were inflamed and the medics had neglected to offer bandages.

"You're looking better," Harry's visitor says, not moving from his stance a few feet from the closed door of the cell. Harry moves his gaze from watching his visitor in the mirror, to looking at his own reflection. His face is a little disfigured by the splintered glass.

"It comes, and it goes," He explains, but the infection never really goes completely. There's always a lingering tinge around his eyes, which simply looks like bruising from any other illness to those who didn't know better.

"An agreement has been made with the warden, he'll be conferring with his higher-ups later this afternoon. Your record will be cleared and charges dismissed; you'll be out of here by the end of the week," the visitor says, shifting slightly, eyes flicking to the security surveillance camera in the corner of the room. Harry doesn't respond very quickly to the information, but the edge of his mouth twitches upwards.

"It's sickening, right, how people will let criminals loose, just for _money_," He says, but he doesn't look altogether unhappy with the prospect of being cleared of his charges. He turns around in his seat, looking his visitor straight in the eye.

"Did you track him down yet?" Harry asks. He doesn't say anything further to specify who he's talking about.

"Yes, Mr Osborn, but I advise you to reconsider your choices with this endeavour," the man says, fiddling professionally with his tie and threading authority into his tone.

"Why's that?" Harry says, turning back away from his visitor, scowling a little. This conversation was not one he'd intended to have, if it was going to way he thought it was.

"He doesn't want money, he's only out for the blood, and the chaos. There's no guarantee that we can secure his loyalty, or his obedience. Cooper is violent, volatile…unpredictable; I'd say he's insane," the visitor explains, gesturing widely with his hands.

"Insane's not a word I'd throw around so easily, Mr Roiler, especially not here,"

/oooooooooo/_  
_

Three days after the incident with Electro and the Goblin, the clock tower and the city's electricity supply, New York is back on its feet and running as though nothing had ever disturbed it. Except, of course, the constant news coverage of the event. Wild speculations were being made by news reporters and interviewers left and right, some of them were founded and reasonable, whereas a lot of them were completely off the rails. Peter found at lot of them to be absurd, but considering the fact that he'd been present at almost the entire incident, he'd find anything but the truth to be a little strange. However, he hadn't been present at Harry eventual downfall into becoming the Goblin and deciding to the take the glider out for a spin, so he could agree with some of the accusations about the gone-crazy owner of Oscorp.

Harry was currently being held at the Ravencroft institute, but news reporters were not actually allowed inside, and the visitor that sometimes came to talk with Harry wouldn't reveal anything about him. Peter wondered how long it would be before the Goblin made a comeback (hopefully, never). He hadn't been out as Spider man for two nights, and although he was itching to get back into protecting the city because he _needed _something to do, he didn't feel like he could trust himself with the role again quite yet. What if he made a mistake, another one, something with much larger consequences than he was used to dealing with (although, he'd dealt with some pretty huge mistakes)?

The small TV just above the counter in the café was showing a news report like most public TVs did. Peter had his back turned to the monitor, so he couldn't see what was being shown, and also couldn't hear the coverage over the bustle of the coffee shop. Gwen sat across from him, glancing every so often at the screen of the TV, sometimes furrowing her eyebrows for a second in concern, or confusion. Eventually, Gwen pauses mid-sentence and tells Peter to turn around and watch the News report. The screen shows the entrance to a subway station, Peter recognizes it, with people pouring out of the turnstiles and onto the streets. Police men and women offer guidance for the panicked passengers of the subway, pointing them away from the station. The headlines are too far away for Peter to read, but someone asks for the TVs volume to be turned up.

"_-all Lexington avenue subway lines will be closed off due to an unknown hostile force threatening the safety of civilians. Police forces are yet to reveal details about the situation, and civilians are advised to find other paths to their destinations, and to stay away from the area. Hopefully, this'll be cleared up by the evening, but until then, we'll be covering the situation completely," _

Peter frowns. A hostile force threatening the safety of civilians. Doesn't sound so good. He glances back at Gwen, before going to get up from his seat.

"Peter-" Gwen starts as Peter shrugs on his coat.

"I need to go, Gwen, I don't think the subway lines would be willing to shut down the Lexington Avenue complex if it wasn't serious," Peter says, and both of them walk out of the bistro café. Gwen opens her mouth to say something, a retort, Peter thinks, before she stops herself and takes his hand, stopping him outside the window of the café.

"Okay, but please, please, be careful; it's dangerous, ask the police force for _details _first. Anything could be down there," Gwen says, and then kisses Peter. He returns the notion, reluctant to pull away, before he remembers what he was doing in the first place.

"I'll see you later," He says, scurrying off down a back alley and changing into his suit, pulling on his mask.

It doesn't take very long to reach the entrance to Lexington Avenue subway station on 59th street. From above, he can see the straggling civilians being filtered away from the station, and a cluster of police forces loitering here and there, emanating a nervous atmosphere. Tension is taut like a wire, many of the officers mumbling into comm units, SWAT teams checking military issued weapons and armour. It's busier than Peter had expected, more public, and there doesn't seem to be any kind of undercover unit or preparation. Several cameramen and reporters are pushing the edges of the police that hold them back, trying to get coverage and ask hundreds of questions about what's going on. Spider man swings down and lands behind a stone ridge on the roof of a low-slung business building. He eyes up the police, wondering his chances on not-getting-shot-at. He doesn't think they'll try straight away, not with the situation at the time being. He clambers to ground-level; landing softly on the sidewalk and wishing his red-and-blue-suit could be just a _little _bit more inconspicuous. A police woman notices him within seconds of his feet touching the ground, and he cringes inwardly. Luckily for him, she doesn't call an alarm, or yell, breaking free from her unit and jogging over to where he's crouched behind the side of a parked car. He notices how she doesn't threaten, or talk into her comm unit, but has one hand on the pistol holster strapped to her hip.

"Spider man, we were wondering when you were going to show up here," She says, motioning for him to come out from behind the car. She presses a finger to her ear and mumbles something to those connected to her Comm unit. Peter really hopes it's something to do with 'please-refrain-from-shooting-spider man'.

"What's up, officer?" Peter says, straightening up, but not making a move to come any closer.

"A hostage situation in the subway station- a SWAT team has been sent in to scope out the enemy force, but the reports suggest we'll need something with more…resistance, less predictability, something they won't suspect. We're under the belief they aren't from the States, so it's likely they don't know about Spider man," She explains, and Peter wanders out from behind the car and listens to her reporting the situation. He's surprised that she's so open with the details, but he knows people find it surprisingly _easier _to talk to someone with a mask, without expression. Others don't, others _really _don't. Although, he can't help but get the vibe that Spider man is only really considered as a weapon, or a threat, to the police. They can send him in to do their dirty work, and because there's no face to trace his actions back to, they won't get in trouble if something goes wrong. After all, the police aren't liable for a guy with a mask for a face, and his actions. He's morally obligated to save the people of New York (it's his responsibility, he can't help thinking), so he can hardly say no to a request for help from the police, no matter how many times they've pointed gun muzzles at him.

"The SWAT team have told us that there are around forty enemy units underground, each man armed with light-duty guns and grenades. They're being run by a man who's believed to go by the name Clint Cooper, but it's unconfirmed," Spider man follows the police lady over to her unit, towards another officer, who's shuffling through files and data sheets. Some of the other police unit's hands go straight to their tasers, or their guns, but the police woman indicates for them to be at ease. The Data handler officer passes her a file under request, which she in turn hands to Peter, telling him to turn to the fifth page. It's a file on Cooper. It tells him he's a White Caucasian male, 6' 2'', heavy-set and ex-military. Dark, short-trimmed hair and he's believed to have some kind of regenerative capabilities (somewhat like Spider man's own fast-healing).

He shuts the file and gives it back to the police officer, asking her if she knows anything else about the situation underground. The back of his neck is tingling and he feels uneasy, because the tension in the air is piercing and it feels like something bad is going to happen if he doesn't tread _very _carefully.

"As far as we know, there are nine hostages. They're lined on the edge of the platform and guarded by several guards, including Cooper himself. Every entrance to the platform is guarded by two or three guards, and more occupy the hallways and tunnels. We don't know much else, or what they want from us," She explains. Peter nods, chirping a thank you that he'd intended to be chipper, but not as chipper as he'd accidentally let slip (he was nervous, okay?). They lead him to a side entrance to the subway station, underground, and suddenly, he's on his own.

A/N – Sorry, this Chapter wasn't very eventful (I don't think so, anyway), but I needed to explain things the right way. I don't really like the chapter, but the next one will hopefully be a little more exciting.

Just to clarify, Clint Cooper is an Original Character created by me, and the man that visits Harry in his cell is completely made up.


End file.
